


Birthday Boy

by nightingalesang



Category: Whyborne and Griffin - Jordan L. Hawk
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Brave Whyborne, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Whyborne, Dresses, Established Griffin Flaherty/Percival Whyborne, Established Relationship, Griffin is in for a treat, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Surprises, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 02:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightingalesang/pseuds/nightingalesang
Summary: Whyborne is trying to come up with a personal gift for Griffin's birthday.Once a certain idea enters his mind... Griffin is in for a treat.





	Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any inaccuracies in historic clothing and make-up.

**Whyborne**

I stared out of the window in my office, pencil tapping against my lips. Instead of solving the latest batch of ancient writing, I was attempting to solve a more complicated cypher. What to get Griffin for his birthday that was due in a month. 

A tie? A pin? Cufflinks? A scarf? A pen? A cane? I had gifted him all this already on various occasions. 

A book? He kept track of all his favourite series and I wasn’t versed in the genre of popular detective novels well enough to choose a new one.

A bottle of expensive bourbon perhaps? That seemed rather impersonal.

Dinner? Theatre tickets? Well, we know how that fared in the past. The evening usually got derailed by some pressing case.

I tried to ask Christine for advice but her ideas were preposterous. A gun or a rifle! As if I knew a thing about these! And I thought the gun Griffin already kept in our house was enough, I didn’t want our dwellings to become an arsenal of weapons. Iskander also didn’t have any useful ideas save the already mentioned.

Damn!

I wanted something special for him. Something only I could give him.

With that thought, my pondering became rather personal and my ears grew hot. However, Griffin was the one more adventurous in bed, not me. I didn’t know what we hadn’t tried yet that would please him. 

Unless…

_ Oh! _

No! I couldn’t possibly…

Or could I?

Now also my whole face was hot and I began to sweat. If only an idea of this made me feel this way, how could I manage to actually  _ put it on _ ? And how could I obtain all of it without suspicion? I didn’t even know what it was comprised of. I had never paid much attention to these things. And also my face! I should put on… Oh God! I couldn’t do it. No question about it.

**Griffin**

In the evening of my birthday, I slowly strolled to our house, enjoying the beautiful spring weather that brought a flowery scent even to the always fishy-smelling streets of Widdershins. I was in a good mood but Whyborne’s behaviour in the last week or two bothered me. He seemed preoccupied with something, leaving for work much earlier than usual. I only hoped he didn’t manage to involve himself in some trouble without telling me. When I inquired, he insisted everything was fine but he blushed and stammered. He was a terrible liar, my Ival. Should it continue, I intended to ask Christine to keep an eye on him in the museum.

I opened the gate and Saul greeted me. He returned from his rambles and made a beeline for the kitchen when I opened the door. I gave him food and looked around. The house seemed quiet but Whyborne should have been at home already. 

“Ival?” I called.

“In the study,” came a voice from upstairs. 

That was unusual. He would normally come downstairs to greet me. Well, he must have been engrossed in work. I took off the jacket and climbed the stairs.

I called: “What are you doing, dea-” and then stopped dead in the doorway. My brain froze, unable to comprehend what my eyes were seeing.

There was Whyborne lounging on the chaise lounge. His long slim body was stretched, one leg crossed over the other, his head leaning against the backrest. 

I blinked. 

Then I blinked again but the image refused to change.

Ival was wearing a dress.

An exquisite long-sleeved black corset dress, with a skirt long enough to cover his feet but with a generous cleavage that revealed his pale collarbones.

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to find my words.

He looked stunning, the black dress and his hair in contrast with his white skin, the corset clinging to his narrow waist, the sleeves made of black lace and his face… Oh my goodness, I only then realized he painted his face! His lips were red and eyes accentuated. He didn’t have to apply a blusher though because he blushed profusely himself. 

He watched me with an irresistible mix of shyness and awkward coquetry, obviously trying to gauge my reaction. 

I was a bit dizzy because all my blood rushed south. But I managed to speak this time. 

“For me?” I whispered in awe and took a step towards him.

Ival nodded. “Happy birthday, Griffin.”

I knelt in front of the lounge and kissed him deeply, burying my hands in his wild locks. Apparently, there had been some attempt to style the hair but he gave up halfway through.

“Do you like it?” he asked shyly as if my flushed cheeks and hunger with which I kissed him were insufficient proofs. 

I took his hand and placed it on the bulge in my trousers. 

“What do you think?” I smirked at him. “Come with me, I cannot wait to get you from all this.”

“But it took such an effort to put it on!” he exclaimed but it was just a token protest. 

I led him firmly to our bedroom. 

“And you put it on to sit and read poetry with me? Or discuss the latest gossip?”

“Well, no…” he said but I didn’t let him finish the sentence and captured his lips again. That lip rouge would be a pain in the arse to wash off later but I didn’t care.

I smoothed my hands over his neck and collarbones, pushing the sleeves from his shoulders and kissing the exposed skin. I traced my fingers over the lacing of the corset on his back. The fabric of the skirt was satin, smooth under my touch when I pushed my hands under the corset hem to remove the skirt. I couldn’t wait to see what was under it. There were lots of possibilities in women’s undergarments and each would be delicious to see on my Ival.

The skirt rustled as it fell on the floor together with layers of petticoats, leaving him only in women’s drawers and stockings. He didn’t wear shoes, I guessed they were impossible to obtain in his size. I pushed him gently on the bed and then stood and gazed my fill.

The drawers were white, ending in the middle of Ival’s thighs with frilled ends through which black satin ribbons were interlaced and tied into little bows. The stockings were made from black silk, their tops adorned with lace. They ended just above his knees, leaving a strip of pale skin exposed, the black lace contrasting with it beautifully. 

He squirmed under my stare, blushing again. I shed my clothes and crawled onto the bed over him. His pupils went wide when he noted how hard I was for him. 

“I’m going to devour you,” I rasped, kissing him again. I put my knee between his legs and pressed against his hard member hidden in his undergarments. I intended to rectify this immediately and descended over his stomach to the white muslin drawers, finding to my delight they had an open crotch.

I took Ival’s cock in my hand and the sight of it among laces and ribbons was so obscene it alone almost made me spill. 

Ival moaned when I took him into my mouth, the soft fabric tickling my cheeks. His male voice and his taste in contrast with the female attire did incredible things to my brain. I couldn’t believe that he, my shy, awkward Ival, who wasn’t even able to talk dirty, decided to do this for me. 

“Griffin…” Ival panted, his hips bucking, “stop, or I’ll…”

I withdrew and climbed back to him.

“What do you want, my dear?” I stared into his eyes.

“It’s your birthday,” he breathed out. “But would you, err... take me?”

“You don’t have an idea how gladly,” I smiled at him. I took off his drawers, leaving the stockings and corset on.

“On your knees, please.”

I took the petroleum jelly from the nightstand while Ival repositioned himself. I looked at him and groaned. The corset was adorned with lace at the hem and Ival’s milky white arse was thus framed with black lace on the top and black stockings on his thighs. 

I prepared him quickly but thoroughly, making him writhe on my fingers. 

“Please, Griffin…”

“Please, what, dear?” I teased, scissoring my fingers, making him cry with pleasure.

He hid his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Please, fuck me,” he whimpered.

I didn’t waste a second and slid in. I knew I wouldn’t last long, so I made the most of it. I tilted Ival’s pelvis so I hit that sweet spot in him in every thrust and fucked him hard and fast. 

He was moaning and pleading, biting his lip. The rouge smeared due to all the kissing and he looked like a wanton whore. That thought was my undoing and I spilt inside him. When I composed myself, I began to stroke his cock firmly.

“Oh, Griffin!” he came with my name on his lips.

We both collapsed on the mattress, trying to calm our breaths. I recovered first, so I cleaned us up and then untied the ribbons, freeing Whyborne from the constriction of the corset. He sighed gratefully.

I stroked his back.

“How did you manage to get a dress?”

He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It was rather tedious. I ordered the parts from these women catalogues in Ms Pankhurst’s name and fetched the packages before she came to the office in the morning.”

“Ah, that’s why you acted so weird.”

“You’ve noticed?” Whyborne blushed.

“My dear, your name and the word ‘inconspicuous’ don’t even belong to the same dictionary,” I chuckled. “I presume you stole the rouge and the rest from my camouflage kit. Tell me one thing though… Where did you learn to make up your face?”

He closed his eyes, mortified.

“Uhm. I- err… I asked Miss Lester if I could observe the funeral attendants painting the faces of the dead. I said it was for a paper on ancient burial techniques.”

I stared at him in astonishment for a moment, then I began to laugh so hard I almost fell from the bed.

That was the most Whyborne thing I could ever think of.


End file.
